Recompense
by kasviel
Summary: Slash Angel/Wesley Based on the episode #17 Eternity, and continues the confrontation between Angelus and Wesley. Though Wes stifled his emotions and said they would just forget it, Angel knows he hurt him, and goes to make amends.


**Author's Notes: **A little background: I came to watch the full series of _Angel _years after it was off the air, through my habit of watching TV shows on my iPod, and this is the first fan fiction I've attempted based on the series and characters. It is based on the fallout from Angel's drug-fueled lapse into soullessness in Episode #17 "Eternity". It may have played out uneventfully on screen (unless you count Angel being chained to his bed for an unspecified amount of time), but this fic takes it a little further than that, as some repressed emotions end up coming to the surface between Angel and Wesley. Anger and outrage and . . . maybe something else?

Please forgive my unfamiliarity with the characters, it is the first story I ever attempted in Buffy-verse. I'd like to think of this as an entry-level story for me, just wetting my feet and feeling out the series and characters. This pairing felt the most, if not believable, then comfortable; I like writing Wes, because I understand his complexes in a strange way. My writing for Angel tends to fuse with his other persona, Angelus, and that theme is explored even more openly in the story after this one. If he ends up being a little too cruel, again, I apologize; I have a bad habit of being more attracted to a blend of Angel and Angelus, rather than Angel alone. It adds dimension and angst to the otherwise vacantly noble vampire, wouldn't you say? Er, before I tget all Spike-cynical here, let's get to the story . . .

Oh yes, and the title _is_ an in-joke between me and anyone else that has read _Angel: After the Fall_, at least the first volume ;-)

* * *

**Recompense**

Once he was finally free of the chains binding him to his bed, Angel resumed his usual daily routine at the office upstairs. Cordelia was a little more quiet than usual . . . for all of two seconds, before she went back to daydreaming about fame and worrying about getting money. Apparently, being told by Angel's soulless side that she was a terrible actress had not shaken her ego as much as he had expected it to, which he was grateful for. He wondered if Wesley had fared as well.

"Where's Wes?"

Cordelia looked up. "Hm? Nowhere. I mean--" She looked around and shrugged. "Not here."

Angel looked at the clock. "He's usually here by now. I don't think he can afford breakfast besides our doughnuts."

"Yeah, weird," Cordelia said distractedly. She thought for a moment, then got up to fetch herself a doughnut. "He must be starving."

Angel leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "Where _does_ he live, anyway?"

"I dunno, why would _I_ know?"

Angel looked at her. "Because it's in your files, secretary?"

"Oh. Ohhh." Cordy leafed through some papers. "Pfft, yeah, here's his address." Angel reached for it, and she pulled it away. "Wait, why do you want to know?"

"I just--"

Cordy eyed him suspiciously.

"What? Hey, soul back in here, remember?" Angel said defensively. "I might want to check on him or something."

"Yeah, you were really mean to him," Cordy said accusingly. "Maybe he's out buying a stake or something."

"We have stakes here."

"A really _sharp_ one," Cordy smiled sweetly. "What? I would! I mean, at least being a bad actress is something you can get over, look at Nicole Kidman. All I have to do is marry a huge star like Tom." She shook her head. "But being a . . . an . . . _inadequate_ man is like-- ugh. There's nothing you can do. I mean, it's not like boobs you can just buy, and then those daddy issues you threw at him, that was-- Oh my God!"

Angel froze. "What?"

"What if he's killed himself?"

"He wouldn't do that, Cordelia!" Angel exclaimed. However, the idea unnerved him, and he grabbed the piece of paper with Wesley's address. " . . . Right?"

"I don't know," Cordelia said thoughtfully. "I don't know him that well. I mean, personally, I don't. No one does. He's just kind of comedic relief, right?"

Angel gave her a look, and then headed out. _I wish I could destroy . . . me? No, it's not me, it's not . . . _

In the car, he sighed. _No, it **is** me. It's me without morals or scruples or respect. It's pure ego. And none of that makes my words untrue. I can't just say "I didn't mean it" or "I don't think that", because the truth is, I do. Somewhere unrestrained, I think all those things, about my . . . my friends._

_And they know it._

Angel arrived at an older apartment building, which was not as rundown as he expected. He wished Cordelia hadn't made that remark about suicide, as it caused a barrage of gruesome images in his mind. Climbing the stairs, he drew a breath, and looked around for any signs of unusual activity. At Wesley's door, he hesitated a moment before knocking.

There was no answer.

Angel knocked again. When there was silence, he began digging through his coat pocket for a lock pick. Just before he was about to break in, the door opened. To his shock, a beautiful woman was exiting. She gave him a small smile, then left without a word. It was just as well, Angel thought, as he would not have been able to cross the threshold if Wes was still alive, anyway.

Wesley was coming out of the shower, tying pajama pants around his waist. He looked troubled, and exhausted. Once he spotted Angel, he turned red, and became extremely nervous. "A-A-Angel, wha-wha-- What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

Wesley eyed him, then murmured, "Yes."

Angel entered the apartment. "I, uh-- You didn't come to work today."

Wesley shrugged. "I'm taking a sick day," he said shortly. He stared at Angel for a long moment, then ignored him on the way to the kitchen.

"Okay."

There was an awkward silence.

"Who was that--"

"No one," Wesley interrupted coldly.

"Wes--"

"Did you honestly come all this way to ask why I'm not on the clock?" Wesley asked, facing Angel with angry, hurt eyes.

"No."

"Then why did you come?" Wesley asked. He turned back to the coffee machine and toaster. "What do you want, Angel?"

"I came to . . . Wesley, I was worried about you, after last night."

"I told you to forget about it," Wesley said, tone strained and curt. He poured a cup of coffee for himself, and began buttering bread. "There would be no point in trying to deny it was true, no sense in apologizing any more." He exhaled, bowing his head over the kitchen counter. "It makes no difference between us, Angel, and I don't blame you for it. I only need a day to . . . "

Angel approached him hesitantly.

"She was a prostitute," Wesley said softly, bringing his small breakfast to the table and sitting down. He took a long drink of coffee. "I thought . . . "

Angel lowered his gaze, feeling terrible.

"I thought it might give me confidence," Wesley murmured, staring into his mug. "You are quite emasculating on a good day, so imagine last night."

" . . . "

"All it ended up doing was proving you right, however," Wesley said with a bitter chuckle. He downed some more coffee, shaking his head. "I just couldn't-- "

"You were probably just . . . distracted," Angel told him. "It became a self-fulfilling--"

"No," Wes said shortly. "You were right. That's all there is to it."

Another painful silence passed between them.

"Most pathetic of all is probably the fact that you _are_ here," Wesley said with a sad smile. "Any real man would have tried to kill you, or at least be furious, hate you. I let you in without even considering leaving you out."

Angel frowned. "You really don't hate me?"

"No. Quite the opp-- Well." Wesley shifted, avoiding Angel's gaze. "I admire you. I like you." He sighed. "But then, I've always needed a bar to try to reach, haven't I?"

"Your father?"

Wes tensed, and his eyes became cold again. "I don't know why I'm saying all this." He stood, walking around the kitchen. " . . . You should go, Angel."

Angel also stood, but not to leave. "I understand, Wesley, I really do."

"You . . . understand?" Wesley realized that he _was_ furious, but had been repressing the feeling. Now it began to boil to the surface, and his grip tightened on the coffee mug handle. He turned slowly back to face Angel. "How dare you tell me you understand. You can't even _begin_ to understand."

"You know that isn't true, Wesley."

"Ha!" Wesley laughed in outrage. "You understand . . . Why? Because you also hated your father, _Angelus_? You think it's the same thing?"

He hurled the coffee mug clear across the room. Angel had to duck to avoid it.

"IT'S NOT THE SAME THING!" Wesley exploded. "You wouldn't know what it's like! You never _tried_ to match up! You didn't _care_! And then you killed him, easy as that! No one left to argue with, no one left to judge you!"

Angel swallowed. "I--"

"Don't! Don't you dare say you regret it," Wesley said scathingly. "Soul or not, I know you don't. Not where it matters. So don't you stand there in my home, pretending to be human."

"Wesley, come on, don't do this."

Angel reached out to touch his shoulder, but Wesley hit his hand away.

"Go," he said, "before I rescind the invite."

Angel took him by the shoulders, using his preternatural speed this time. Wes tried to pry him off, but of course was unable to. He exhaled, looking up at the vampire tiredly. "Angel . . . "

"Wes." Angel lifted his face up to his own by the chin. "Look at me."

"Why? So I can feel even more inferior?" Wesley asked impatiently. "So I can hate myself for not hating you? Go away, Angelus."

"I won't apologize, but . . . how about hearing some other truths?"

"I've had enough truth to last me--"

"Like, you aren't a bad guy?" Angel said. "Like I'm glad you showed up and joined us? That I trust you? I like you? And we need you?"

"You don't need me," Wesley muttered.

"How many times have you helped out?" Angel pointed out. "How many times has your research saved us? And it hasn't even been very long, right?"

"Well, _yes_, but--"

"Don't argue," Angel said firmly. "It's true."

"But so is everything else." Wesley struggled against his grip. "Having a purpose is easy. I was on the Council, then I went to hunt demons, which I'm still doing, albeit not alone anymore. I'm a failure, but I can still do some good. That isn't the problem."

"What is?"

"Would you let go of me?"

Angel released him, and he rubbed his shoulder.

"The problem is me," Wesley said. "But you wouldn't understand, and I'm not going to stand here berating myself to you. You can do that well enough without my help."

Angel's patience was beginning to wear thin. "How can you say I don't understand?" he asked. "You know I know how it is to not be good enough! To know that no matter how hard you try, you'll never be what everyone else is, you'll never be good enough! I know how much it hurts to do everything you can even though you know it won't make a damn difference!"

"At least you have the excuse of that curse!" Wesley snapped. "You can blame your sins on your vampirism, and blame your loss of love on that gypsy curse! What do I have to blame? _What_? Only myself. Me, and my . . . incompetence, my weakness."

"Poor you, right, Wes?" Angel said cynically. "Life didn't quite turn out as perfectly as you planned, did it? Poor little Wesley, nothing was ever easy. It wasn't your fault that your choices were the wrong ones; wasn't your fault that you were a high-handed know-it-all who never took the time to pay attention to what was really going on; wasn't your fault that everything blew up in your face because of your bratty goals of self-fulfillment. No, none of it was your fault, was it? You're just a victim, right, Wes?"

Wesley paled, his blue eyes wide and lips pressed into a taut line.

"You're a victim of your daddy and the cruel world and the Council . . . and me." Angel shrugged. "That about sums it up, right?"

"How-how dare you . . . " Wesley breathed, although he could feel the hot blur of tears springing to his eyes. He licked his lips, turning his back on Angel and wandering into the adjacent living room. "You came here for this? To insult me more? I thought . . . I thought you had your soul back . . . "

"What's the difference? I'm still _Angelus_, right?" Angel said viciously. "I'm still a vampire that would never understand human emotion, human pain. Didn't you say that? Isn't that your whole point?"

Wesley bowed his head. " . . . . "

"It's easier to think no one understands, because it lets you go on in your self-absorbed pity," Angel said, coming towards him. "It lets you discount everything I say and do. You're not trying to measure up to me, I'm no father figure to you, Wesley, and I'm not a friend, either. You're just using me to go on with your self-righteous plans. Without the Council's power, you've latched onto mine. And you think _you_ feel betrayed?"

"That's not true."

"Yes it is," Angel said. "You're still trying to measure up to dad, like it would even mean anything if you did. I thought I was a friend. I thought maybe you cared about the fight, about me, and Cordelia. But you don't. You're just the same spoiled, whiny, sheltered Wes--ley!"

Wesley drew the blinds, and sunlight filtered in. Angel scarcely jumped out of the way quickly enough to avoid burning up to death. Wesley turned around, staring with icy eyes at Angel.

"I'll . . . I'll kill you," he said softly. His hand wrapped around a wooden stake on the coffee table. "I'll _kill_ you!"

Cordelia's words about a "really sharp one" came to mind, and Angel had little space to work with. Still, it was easy enough to avoid Wesley, who was distraught (and had never been much of a fighter). "Hey, hey, take it easy!" Angel exclaimed, dodging the stake. "Wesley!" Angel took him by the wrists and held him still. "Wes."

The stake fell and clattered to the wood flooring. Wesley crumbled, and his angry words gave way to sobs. Angel exhaled, giving him a pitying look, and drew him close. "It's okay, Wes," he said, though he felt slightly awkward. "It's okay."

Wesley cried wordlessly, hands unwillingly grasping onto Angel's black coat. Angel led him to the sofa, and they both sat down. Still, Wesley clung to him, crying into his shirt. Angel looked lost for a moment, scanning the apartment as if searching for an escape. Finally, he settled into the couch, putting a hand on Wesley's back comfortingly.

"I'm not t-trying to compete or measure up," Wesley told him. "I didn't stay for my own reasons! I really-- I didn't."

"I know."

Wesley looked up at him in horror. "You _know_?"

Angel nodded. "I wanted you to realize that," he explained. "I wanted you to defend yourself. I knew if I needled you enough, it would do it. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I'm being stupid," Wesley said, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. "I can't believe I . . . "

"Feel? Cry? Like any mortal would?" Angel smiled at him, touched his shoulder. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

"I'm crying like a child." Wesley sniffled, trying desperately to dry his eyes on his arm. "I thought I was stronger."

"You are, stronger than you think," Angel assured him.

"You think so?"

Angel nodded. "Yeah. So don't cry."

Wes drew a shuddering breath, but a few more tears spilled from his eyes. Before he got to wipe them away, Angel did it for him with a flick of his thumb. "Don't cry," he repeated gently.

Their eyes met. Ironically, the feelings he had spent the entire night trying to muster up for a beautiful woman suddenly came welling up inside him. Though somewhat confused, Wesley leaned forward, and brought their lips together. He felt Angel's surprise, felt him jerk to pull away, and then felt him give in. Angel kissed him back, for reasons Wes could not even begin to fathom, and they moved closer on the sofa.

The kiss deepened, and Wesley ran his hands through Angel's hair, almost moved onto his lap. It was sudden and yet, not unexpected; for a time, Wesley had been caught between wanting and wanting to _be_ Angel. Having decided on the former, and being so fragile, it was really little surprise. He was shocked that Angel actually allowed it, and wondered exactly when--

"W-Wes, Wes."

--Angel would stop it.

Wesley drew his face back, huffing. "What?"

"I can't . . . I mean . . . " Angel was lying back on the sofa arm, Wesley on hand and knee over him. He gave an uncomfortable half-smile, and said, "I can't do this."

"Why not? There is no chance of us finding pure bliss and incurring the curse, no reason anyone else would find out, nothing to complicate our lives," Wesley said pertinently. He tossed his glasses aside onto the coffee table. "I don't see why we can't."

He had a point, and they both knew it. Angel looked aside, then back at Wes, mouth slightly ajar. What could he say? It was not like, in all his hundreds of years, he had never been with another man. He found Wesley cute, and there was something appealingly needy about him. In his old days, he would have probably turned Wes, led him to kill his family and forget his troubles, and had a few wild, sadistic nights with him.

"I'm not asking for love," Wesley said. He frowned quizzically down at Angel. "Do you not want me? I'm not good enough?"

"You-- Heh." Angel sat up, though Wes remained on hand and knee atop him. "You're trying to guilt trip me into having you, because you want comfort."

"So I am," Wesley admitted. He brought his face directly in front of Angel's, meeting his eyes angrily. "Can you blame me?"

Angel gave him a look.

"You're the one who came here to make it up to me." Wes pulled Angel closer by the shirt. "So, make it up to me, then."

"You're a piece of work, Wes." Angel stood, pacing, and then gave the man's up-turned bottom a swat. "A real brat. You know that?"

Wesley scowled, pushing himself up to be on his knees and look up at Angel. "You're rejecting me?"

Angel put a hand on his shoulder, then rubbed his arm. "Wes . . . "

"Just say it, Angel!" Wesley said impatiently. "Cordelia is right. At least your evil side is honest!"

_My 'evil' side . . . As much as I hated hurting them last night, that honesty, that freedom . . ._

_I never realized how much I missed it._

Angel took Wesley's face into both hands and kissed him. Wesley could feel that he was testing the waters, trying to see if he wanted it, so he kissed back harder. Their bodies were pressed together now. Wesley felt his own heart pounding in his chest, and the lack of Angel having any beating at all. But the vampire's skin was cool in the warm air, pleasant.

"Comfort, eh?" Angel mused, lifting Wes up off the sofa by the waist. "You want comfort, Wes?"

Wesley let his arms encircle the other man, kissing his neck, opening his shirt. He was laid on his back on the sofa, Angel climbing up over him. Too caught up in the rush to be self-conscious, he licked Angel's neck and chest, drew him into another hungry kiss. It had been a very long time since he was with another sexually.

_I didn't realize how much I missed it._

"Ahhh--"

Angel shushed him with a kiss, and continued undressing him. Wes looked away, blushing deeply, wishing it were dark. He felt scrawny beneath Angel's strong, muscled frame.

"Why so scared all of a sudden?" Angel asked. He reached down, smirking a little as he groped at the man. "You don't feel very incompetent right now."

"Oh for heaven's sake," mumbled Wes, turning impossibly redder.

Angel laughed, turning him onto his stomach. His eyes lit with a strange light as he squeezed the man's thigh, eyed his bared body. He could feel the remnants of his other side lingering, even now. "You just wanted _me_, didn't you?" Angel leaned far over him, pressing into the man's flesh through his dangerously low-hanging slacks. "You just need the right person, Wes. Which is usually the one you don't think you can have. Me, Cordelia--"

"Oh, don't start," Wesley groaned, burying his face in his arms. "You enjoyed being cruel the other night, didn't you?"

"No."

Wes looked over his shoulder and glowered at Angel.

Angel smiled just a tiny bit, and pinched his bottom. "Maybe a little."

"Ow!"

Angel ran his tongue down Wes' spine. "You love it."

Wesley shuddered. "Mmph . . . Heh. Maybe a little." His hands gripped at the sofa, as he drew a deep breath. His mind was beginning to creak back into function, but he didn't want it to. He knew there were a million reasons this was a bad idea, but he didn't care. He _wanted_ it, damn it, and he was tired of clouding all his desires with common sense.

Angel pushed into him, and he gasped sharply. Too late, anyway, and he was glad it was. He wanted this.

No.

He wanted _him_.

Wesley cried out loudly, and Angel covered his mouth with a hand. He felt the vampire's breath on his neck, heard him whisper a "Shh" into his ear before kissing it. Wes' eyes screwed shut, as he whimpered softly beneath Angel's cold, pressing hand on his lips. Another burst of pain and pleasure caused him to bite into the vampire's flesh; Angel made a quiet sound of amusement, and removed his hand.

"Loud one, aren't you?"

"I-I-- Ahhh!" Wes gasped, burying his face in the sofa arm. "I've never been with-- a-- a-- "

"Vampire? Are you afraid?"

Angel bit down very lightly on his neck, and Wes shivered.

"I was going to say 'a man', actually."

Angel's tongue flicked against his skin, the teeth human but no less unnerving. Wesley got the distinct feeling of being taste-tested, and cringed his neck away. Angel laughed, kissing his lower back, and continuing to work him.

"Does it feel good to scream, Wes? To stop being so damned nervous and uptight about everything?"

"M-Mm hm," Wes replied weakly.

"Ngh . . . then . . . " Angel turned Wes' face up, by the chin, and kissed him. "Then if you start getting all morose and uncertain . . . just remember--" Wes yelped, and Angel kissed his cheek. "--remember this. Okay?"

"A-Angel . . . "

They moved apart, and Wes turned to him. Angel stroked his face, lifting him up so they were sitting in one another's arms. "Okay?"

Wesley smiled, hair askew, and kissed him. "I will."

Angel threw him back down on the sofa, and Wes smiled to himself. _As if I could even begin to forget._

* * *

"Un-untie me?"

Laughing, Angel reached over and untied the tie binding Wes to the headboard rails. Wesley collapsed onto the pillows, sighing leisurely, and then lifted his head to look at Angel. Angel gave him a smile, and pulled him onto his chest. He did not inquire if Wesley was okay, but he did take his wrists in a hand and look them over. Finding them slightly bruised, he rubbed on the skin gently. Then, his fingers slid down to the wrist, and he just felt the man's pulse for a long moment.

Wes slung the tie around Angel's neck and drew him into a kiss with it. "Mmm. Didn't know you were into bondage, Angel."

"Surprised?"

"Actually, not at all." Wes lay against his chest, trying not to think about the lack of heartbeat. He traced the contours of the man's body with a finger, pondering him. "You must have experienced every fetish known to man in all these years."

"Well . . . most of them." Angel thought about it. "All right, yeah, all of them, and some I invented personally . . . "

"That must be something," Wesley said thoughtfully. "You're so natural, so comfortable. I've never even known what I wanted, certainly not what I might want from a man, but you knew. You were . . . perfect. It must be nice, knowing what to do, say . . . "

"It makes having sex easier, but it doesn't make relationships any easier," sighed Angel. "In fact, it makes them harder. I mean, look at this. I just complicated our friendship."

"No you didn't," Wesley assured him. "I'm not going to start getting clingy, and I'm sure you won't, either. It won't get awkward."

Angel did not look convinced, but he did not argue. He kissed the top of Wes' head and held him close to his chest. "But don't think I regret it," he said. "I don't."

"Neither do I."

"You sure, Wes?" Angel asked. "Didn't you say you'd never been with a guy before?"

"Yes, I did say it," Wesley said. "I haven't been, not before this. I've never been attracted to any man before, certainly not enough to sleep with them. But you're different, Angel."

"How so?"

Wes shrugged, drowsy in the warmth of their closeness. "You're . . . you. You're Angel."

"Um--"

"You're strong," Wesley said. "Not just physically strong. It's different." He paused in thought, then explained, "You have an innate sense of purpose. That security in what you do is reassuring. It's pure."

"Yeah, but on the other hand, I can be--"

Wes leaned up and kissed his lips lightly. "Shh. Never mind the other hand," he smiled. "This is the only you that matters."

"Wesley . . . " Angel stroked his back. "What about earlier? I was pretty harsh with you."

"I deserved it."

Angel looked amused. "What was that?"

"Some people need a wake-up call," Wesley sighed, sounding a little sullen. "I needed to hear those things. I . . . I did stay because I care about you, and the fight, but you were right about some things, regardless." He looked up at Angel. "If you hadn't come here today, I might have kept on feeling sorry for myself. I might have started hating you, left to go it alone again, like I did after I lost the Council."

"But then we might see those leather pants again," Angel deadpanned, barely stifling the laughter. "Those were hot."

Wes blushed, burying his face in Angel's shoulder. "Ugh. Don't remind me."

Angel laughed, shaking his head. "I think I wanted you since I saw you in that get-up. I swear, it was that sexy."

"Angel," whined Wes, "please."

Angel laughed, despite himself. Wes was cute when he was harassed.

"You walk a fine line, vampire," sighed Wesley. "A very fine line."

"Don't we all?"

Wes raised his eyebrows. "Well, yes, I suppose we do."

* * *

Immediately upon getting into the office, the two men were assaulted by Cordelia. "Where _were_ you?!" she demanded of Angel. "I have been running this entire place all on my own, and-- Oh, Wesley, you didn't kill yourself."

Wesley stared at her in shock. "W-what? Why would I--"

"Never mind, have a doughnut." Cordelia shoved a pink box at him. "Anyway, what took you so long?" She dropped her voice to a whisper, despite the fact that Wesley was close enough to hear it regardless. "Did you have to talk him off a ledge?"

"My building's roof is locked off," Wesley said flatly.

"Away from a window?"

"Oh, for heavens' sake, I wasn't suicidal!" Wes snapped, blushing. "How weak do you think I am?"

Angel crossed his arms. "We did have an issue with a window, though."

Wes laughed anxiously, took his doughnut, and went away without another word. Cordelia looked between them, and frowned a little. "Well, what _did_ happen?"

"Nothing," the two said simultaneously (Wesley through a mouthful of doughnut).

Cordelia raised her eyebrows. "That much nothing has got to be something."

"We talked."

"Just talked," affirmed Wesley.

"Okay, don't tell me," Cordelia grumbled, going back to her desk. "So much for honesty."

Angel felt bad, but knew neither of them was ever going to breathe a word to their loudmouth female companion. He went into his office, Wesley settled on the couch, and all was silent.

_Just a little awkward,_ Wesley thought. _It was worth it._

In his office, Angel went to reach for his usual book, then refrained. He spent a long moment thinking, then lifted his eyes to glance at Wesley through the open door.

_My worst fear was realized for a night, and I almost lost a friend,_ he thought. _Instead, I gained a one-night lover._

Wes looked up, realized he was being watched, and fumbled with the book until it fell to the floor. He gave Angel a nervous grin, picked it up, and went back to reading it. Angel shook his head.

_And a very . . . unlikely one, at that._

Cordelia was on the phone now, and Wesley took the chance to slip into the office. He sat down atop Angel's desk, looking at him inquisitively. Angel lay a hand on his knee, and smiled a little.

Just then, Cordelia burst in. "We have a case!"

Angel's hand was removed before Wesley even noticed it was gone. Cordelia didn't notice anything. The two men shared one last look, before leaving to the main office. They discussed some details, and headed out.

Wesley smiled a little wistfully, picking up his shoulder bag and slinging it on. _And just like that, it's back to business._

**End**


End file.
